Drabbles
by Klainey
Summary: Just a collection of Drabbles, mostly Klaine, but possibly other ships, depending on what strikes my fancy at that moment.
1. The Klushie

As he walked through the doors of McKinley High School, he immediately understood what Kurt had told him about feeling unsafe.

Yet it didn't bother him too much because right in front of him was Kurt.

Not to say, Kurt in unholy tight jeans, that hugged him in all the right ways in all the right places. So it was only natural for Blaine, being the hormonal teenager he was, to sneak up on his boyfriend _–boyfriend–_ and hug him around his waist. Kurt let out a squeak and it was so adorable Blaine couldn't do anything else than press a little kiss right under his ear, right at the spot he knew drove Kurt crazy.

"Blaine, you can't just go around sneaking up on people like that. I could have hurt you."

Blaine chuckled, his chest still pressed against Kurt's back. Kurt turned around in his arms and smiled down at him.

"Hey."

"Hi."

He looked up into Kurt's clear blue eyes, wondering if the color even existed, about to close the few inches left in between them when-

_**SPLASH**_

A wave of purple ice came crashing over the two of them. He heard Kurt gasp and wanted to look at him, but all he could see was the purple mess, now slowly melting, and dripping down his face. He wiped his eyes and as soon as he could see Kurt again, he smirked at the few jocks still looking at them and he pulled him down for a kiss. Their lips smashing together, Kurt struggles for a second but then he melts into the kiss. Blaine lets his tongue slip into Kurt's mouth and he can taste the slushie as it melts on his and Kurt's faces.

And even as the football players and students standing around start to shout and throw things at them, all he can think of is:

"Purple really tastes awesome on Kurt."


	2. Playing in the Rain

When Kurt woke up he thought it was still night, until he checked his alarm clock. 9.30.

Why the hell was it still dark? He wondered in his sleep-dazed mind if the sky had maybe fallen down until he heard the soft telltale sound of rain ticking on the roof. He opened his eyes again and saw the little droplets of water trickling down his window. Groaning, he turned around again.

This was the kind of day that should be spent inside, on the couch wrapped in a pile of blankets with a mug of hot cocoa with mini marshmallows. And Disney movies. Reluctantly he got up and after putting on clothes and fixing his hair he took out his phone.  
>One missed call and 3 new messages.<p>

**From: Blaine **

**Kurt it's raining! We should play in the rain! It's awesome :D **

**From: Blaine **

**Kurt. Playing in the rain. Wake up. **

**From: Blaine **

**I'm coming over to play in the rain with you. **

Kurt stared at the screen incredulously. Blaine would not make the two hour drive to Lima just so he could mess up Kurt's hair by going outside, would he? As if on cue the doorbell went.  
>Apparently he would. He quickly made his way downstairs to open the door to a thoroughly soaked boyfriend.<p>

"It's raining." Kurt stated dryly.

Blaine's grin almost split his face in half.

"I love rain."

Kurt looked at him with his best bitch-please look, but before he could do or say anything, Blaine had already pulled him outside by his hands. Within seconds he was soaked to the bone. Turning around to glare at his boyfriend for getting him this messed up and dirty, all he saw was a teenage boy jumping around, dancing in the rain like a little kid. And he fell in love with him all over again. He ran to Blaine and threw his arms around his neck. Blaine whirled around with the biggest smile Kurt had ever seen and took his hand.

They jumped around in puddles, got soaked to the bone and ice cold. Kurt paused to look at Blaine and big brown eyes stare into his own. He can see Blaine's eyes already fluttering close and he was angling his head slightly and… Kurt gave him a quick peck on the nose before he ran off into the rain with a "Catch me if you can!" Blaine shook his head but quickly chased after him, tackling him to the wet grass, rolling around in it, channeling their inner little kid, just having some good old fun.

They spent the next day on the couch together, wrapped in a pile of blankets with two mugs of hot cocoa with little marshmallows watching Disney movies. Both boys were sniffling and coughing but the smiles from the day before were still etched on their faces while the rain kept steadily pouring down outside.


	3. Watch Me As I Fall

**Authors Note: This is incredibily angsty. As in, I cried while writing. so... Read at your **

**TRIGGER WARNING: Character Death and Suicide, so dont read if it bothers you, okay? **

**Also, I wrote it while listening to this song; www. youtube. com /watch?v=44kueN1xfk4**

**(I suggest you listen to it too)**

What would it be like if Kurt didn't go to Westerville to spy on the Warblers?  
>What if he had never found the courage he needed to get through his bullying?<p>

He just wanted someone to be happy with. Was that too much to ask?

Just one person who he could tell anything and everything, who he could be crazy with, in love with, crazy in love with.

He looked down at the couples in the courtyard. Puck and Quinn, sitting huddled together on the stairs, Mike and Tina, kissing passionately, as usual. Sam and Mercedes, so unexpected, but inseparable. Santana and Brittany, sitting with their pinkies locked and smiling. Even Finn and Rachel seemed to have worked it out, after eight times.

The music in his ears clouded his head and eyes.

He stepped to the edge, looking down and smiling at Karofsky, who was sitting next to Azimio and the rest of his Jock buddies. He wouldn't have to be scared for his secret coming out anymore. Kurt would take Dave's secret with him to the grave. His eyes wandered over the crowded courtyard, looking for faces that hadn't thrown insults or slurs his way.

He didn't find _one_.

**Always **

One step closer. He closed his eyes.

**Remember**

He spread his arms, ready to fly, ready to finally be free.

He lifted his foot, letting his dangle over the edge for a second before pushing his weight forward.

**Me.**

For exactly one second, Kurt Hummel was free.


	4. Wasted Love

Summary: Kurt has a secret admirer who leaves him roses, coffee, and cards, and he's sure he knows who it is.

Author's note: blangstilicious blangst as a protest against all the Valentine's fluff. hah. hah. hah. sob.

The first one takes him by surprise, a flash of bright red and dark green, curled petals and spiky leaves in his locker. He stares at it, dumbfounded, before picking it out and delicately twirling it around. He's looking for a card, a slip of paper, initials scratched into the stem, _anything_ to show him who sent it, but he finds nothing.

He doesn't notice Blaine watching him with a small smile curling the corners of his mouth, a knowing look in his eyes.

He does notice that cute lacrosse player, Adrian, Adam, something like that, flashing him a smile, all white teeth and smoulder.

The second one is more anticipated, lying smack-dab in the middle of his desk as he enters the History classroom. There's a card attached now, though. In beautiful script, written in purple pen, his own name stares back at him.

_Kurt_

He picks it up quickly, noticing curious stares of pupils pouring in for the next class. He blushes and cautiously drops it into his bag with the other one.

He doesn't notice the five carefully drawn drafts of his name in the sideline of Blaine's notebook, in pink, orange, turquoise and purple pen.

He does notice Cute Lacrosse Player-Aaron, if he remembers correctly- toying with a purple pen.

The tacky heart decorations, the excessive use of the colors red, pink, and white, the sickening lyrics of old love songs, the horrible stench of the faux rose perfume most of the boys had apparently decided to wear … Today, nothing could bother him.

He had found a third rose lying next to his morning coffee. A wide grin had stretched around his lips as he read the—admittedly tacky but, hey, it's something— card lying next to it.

_You're as sweet as a nonfat Mocha! _

It had taken all of his strength not to squeal like a fifteen year old school girl as he let himself fall back against his pillows with a happy sigh. Mostly to himself, he mumbled:

"I think I have a new favorite holiday…"

While he was thinking of possible strawberry blond hair and a smile to die for, the door closed softly, and a smiling Blaine pads back to his own room to get ready for another day of school.

The fourth rose was handed to him by Wes, over his plate of salad at lunch. He smells it, the familiar, heavy, fragrance, and is immediately transported back to his youth, to his mom's dresser that, even now, still faintly smells of roses. He glances at the table opposite of them, against the far back wall, to see Aaron looking at him. He quickly looks back at his own tray, busying himself with pushing the bland food on his plate around and looking, well, busy. His eyes are lit up though, and he's obviously trying to suppress a smile as he drops the flower in his bag. The card that was dangling on the stem catches on the zipper of his bag, and in a flash of blue pen and carefully practiced script, an invitation stands.

_Meet me in the library at 6 _

_xx_

He doesn't notice Blaine staring at him, trying to gauge a reaction.

He doesn't even notice Wes winking at Blaine and giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

He does, however, notice Aaron blushing and smiling faintly on the other side of the room.

At six o'clock sharp, he pushes through the door of the library, the smell of paper and knowledge hitting his nose in a wave, and he's immediately reminded of why he likes the Dalton library so much better than the McKinley one. There are actual old, hard-wood, tables and benches in here, the books date from _before _the 'Twilight' era, and people actually come here for studying rather than to look for a quiet place to make out. Sighing, he looks around. There's no one there that could be his 'secret admirer'. Nobody he would want it to be anyways.

So he perches himself on one of the unoccupied benches and takes out his notes for that History paper that's due next week. It's at five past six that a flustered Aaron comes practically running into the library.

Kurt jumps up as soon as their eyes connect, and practically slams himself against Aaron, smashing their lips together. Aaron's hands come to rest, somewhat hesitantly, on his waist, but as Kurt shyly runs his tongue over his bottom lip, he does open his mouth to grant him entrance.

They stay like that for what could have been hours, or minutes, or maybe even weeks, they wouldn't know. Kurt smiles softly as he rests their foreheads together, and whispers a small 'Thank you.' Aaron just smiles, a bit confused, but he doesn't really think about it, because when he has a gorgeous boy in his arms, who cares if that boy doesn't entirely make sense?

Kurt doesn't notice Blaine standing in the doorway, panting and flushed from running through the halls to be there at six o'clock because Warbler practice had overrun.

He doesn't notice the bouquet of about 20 red roses Blaine is holding, that suddenly falls, together with Blaine's face.

He doesn't notice the few rose petals left in the doorway after Blaine had scrambled to the floor to pick up all his roses—his monthly allowance.

Neither does he notice the dark navy figure that slowly walks back to the dorm rooms, his back curved under the weight of his defeat, the twenty-something roses dragging with their heads across the expensive marble floors.


	5. Love Love Love - Preview

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the first scene of a larger fic that I am currently working on, so this is sort of a test-run to see if the idea**

* * *

><p>"Was that good?"<p>

"Hmm."

A soft chuckle floats through the air.

"Is 'hmm' good?"

A smile evident in his voice.

"Hmm."

The rustle of fabric and a soft grunt as muscles stretch and pull.

"Now you're just fucking with me."

"Already did."

Another light laugh.

"Fair enough. Five minutes starting now?"

A wistful sigh that wasn't meant to sound as longing as it did.

"Only five minutes?"

"You know I can't stay any longer."

Another sigh, lower now, deeper, more loaded with unspoken emotion.

"I know."

More rustling of high-thread-count sheets, and then silence. The air in the room feels thick and hot and it's like smoke or some kind of gas but it's not, it's just them, and the scent of sex permeates the air. Somewhere outside a car horn honks, glass breaks, and someone is yelling something in some guttural foreign language, but inside there is nothing but their combined breathing and the soft gurgle of the radiator.

"I love you."

Three mumbled words that don't quite break the cover of silence but seem to be a part of it, seem to float under the consciousness of both men. Muffled by skin and the post-coital haze that tends to make an excellent canvas for slip-ups. For a minute they seem to twirl through the air, drifting on a non-existent breeze, before they settle down. His eyes snap open, his body tenses up and he sucks in a breath. His eyes flit to the body on his chest, but he gets no response, as the other man is already asleep, pulled under by the comfortable warmth of another body. His breath comes out in a stuttered shudder. He wrecks his mind for clues, for hints of more than shared orgasms and shared breath and shared body heat. Did he always have that look in his eyes? Did he mean to have that lilt in his voice, an unexpected melodiousness, or did it slip out on a draft of emotion? The sky turns gray already when his eyelids eventually become heavier than his worries, and he finally succumbs to sleep, the weight of the other man on his chest now an uncomfortable pressure on his heart.

Two hours later he wakes up, untangles their limbs, and untangles their lives. He straightens out the sheets on his side, grabs the envelope of cash from the bedside table, removes his number from his phone, and rinses the remnants of red wine from the glass. He was never here, and will never be here again. He gathers his clothes from the floor and takes his bag from behind the potted plant. With as little jingling as possible, he pulls a key from his key ring and places it gently in the bowl sitting on the counter by the front door. When he finally closes the door behind him, the small hand of his watch points at four in the morning, and he feels like he left his stomach on the apartment floor.


	6. Red Balloon Fic - Preview

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Like the last chapter, this, too, is a preview for a larger fic that has been in my WIP folder for the longest time. I'm really excited about it, though, so if you are excited about it, too, please favorite or review and I'll post more of it! **

* * *

><p>Two little boys, they couldn't be older than eight, sat in the old sycamore on a hill, on one of the thickest branches. One of them was holding a bright red balloon that was tugged on its string in the evening breeze. But the boy's grip didn't falter. His bright blue eyes gazed into the distance, to the horizon.<p>

The other boy, who had a remarkable mop of unruly, dark brown curls and big, honey hazel eyes, was squirming on the branch, making it bob and sway.

Their shadows grew longer as the sun set, and the smaller boy scooted closer to the other one.

"Can your mommy get the message yet, Kurt?"

His clear voice rang loudly through the twilight. His gaze was fixed on Kurt's serious-looking little face, as the taller boy put his arm around him.

"Not yet, Blaine. We have to wait until we can see the stars, because my daddy told me that when people die, they become stars. And so when we let the balloon go then, it will find it's way to my mommy, because I wrote her name on the card."

Blaine nodded in understanding; one of his longer curls fell over his forehead. He pushed it away with a small huff and grabbed Kurt's hand, twining their little fingers together.

"I wouldn't mind if it takes even a… uhm. An…. A really, really long time for the stars to get here. Because it would mean that I can sit here with my best friend for a really long time."

He put his head on Kurt's shoulder, nuzzling the other boy's neck. Kurt giggled because the curls tickled his face, but then he sighed contently. He squeezed Blaine's hand as darkness slowly surrounded them. And so they sat, two little boys, hands intertwined and little legs dangling from the tree into nothingness.

The red balloon was floating in the air, stopped by little shocks when the string in Kurt's hand held it close.

He was still staring at the horizon, when the first stars began to appear. He nudged Blaine, whose eyes were drooping, with his shoulder. The boy sat up and yawned, and he looked so much like a dinosaur Kurt had to laugh, but then he turned serious again; they had something very important to do.

With a lot of wobbles and swaying and steadying themselves on each other, they both took hold of the string. Slowly, to not lose their balance, they both stretched out their arms to the sky. The balloon was tugging on its string like mad, caught between the leaves and the light summer breeze. Kurt sighed deeply and looked over to Blaine, who was looking at the small card attached to the balloon with a determined look on his face. Blaine glanced over to Kurt from under his tangled mess of curls.

"I think there are enough stars now."

Kurt sighed one more time and took Blaine's hand.

"Yes. I guess there are."

Their eyes locked, for just one second, and nothing mattered, because they both had their best friend in the world with them.

"Are you ready?"

Kurt closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and turned to look at Blaine.

"Yes."

Blaine nodded and squeezed their locked hands.

"One…"

Kurt looked at the balloon.

"Two…"

Blaine looked at Kurt.

"Three."

It came out as a whisper, neither of them wanting to disturb the moment they created, not wanting to tear the silence apart with words. They let go of the balloon at the same time.

They watched it float upwards, higher and higher until it was just a small, almost invisible red dot in the night sky, nearly unrecognizable among the millions and millions of stars that crowded the sky.

Kurt turned around and hugged Blaine. He buried his face in the mop of curls and felt tears sting his eyes.

He felt two tiny arms come up and rub his back soothingly.

"It's going to be okay, Kurt. I'm sure she'll get the message. She's gonna love it."

The balloon drifted away, the small white card dangling at the bottom of the long chord.

"dearest mommy,

I love you very very much, and i miss you a lot.

I really liked it when we played with the dolls and with my tea party set and with my tiaras. I wish you were here becos even tho blaine (thats my bestest friend in the whole world) plays with me, its not the same as when you did.

Sometimes the bigger kids from school call me things like homo and gay and something with a F that i couldnt write on here from daddy.

i don't like that becos it makes daddy sad.

i just want to say that i really really really mis you. and i just want you to know that, even tho your not here, i sometimes think you are, and that makes me happy.

i hope this balloon reaches you

I love you, mommy,

Kurt

Oh also i told blaine about you and he said he liked you a lot even tho he doesnt know you but i think that if you new him you'd love him too like you love me."


End file.
